


frozen peas

by guardianoffun



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: A lot of comfort, M/M, a little hurt, mild whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 23:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20379616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardianoffun/pseuds/guardianoffun
Summary: Morse comes home a little worse for wear, Jakes takes care of him in traditional Jakes fashion. Shameless warm stuff because why not?





	frozen peas

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted fluff honestly what can i say? also sorry for the spam updates i was away for 3 weeks and did some writing but couldnt post it lol i hope yall are enjoying?

Morse was home late. He wasn’t, for once, in any mortal danger but that didn’t mean the day hadn’t been a long and hard one. He crashed through Jakes’s door around seven thirty, exhausted hands struggling to get the key in the door. He swore as he eventually kicked his way in. Jakes, who had been pretending he wasn’t clock watching by attempting to keep up with the episode of  _ Doctor Who  _ that was on. He had slipped out of work when five o'clock hit, but Morse had been out with Thursday at the time, called to scene, and Jakes had assumed they’d just meet at home within the hour; they had dinner plans. 

At the sound of Morse’s snappish curses though, Jake's head snapped up. 

“Morse?” He called, getting up and heading for the hall. He peered around the corner to spot Morse, looking a mess, slouched in the doorway. He gave Jakes a grim look as he kicked the door shut behind him, and then winced.

“What the…” Jakes said, taking in the sight of Morse, jacket sleeve torn, scuff marks on his knees and mud on his chin. Morse shrugged off the ruined jacket and draped it over the coat hook. As he moved down the hall, Jakes couldn’t help but notice a slight limp in his gait. 

“Morse what happened?” He asked, arms already going out so Morse could fall into them. He said nothing but fell into Jakes, head buried in his neck. He didn’t even have the energy to move his arms, so Jakes slid his around him and did all the holding for the two of them.

“Morse?” He asked again, nose buried in coppery curls. Morse let out a long, weary sigh.

“I’m fine,” he murmured. “Just tired.” Jakes let his hands sneak up to his shoulders so he could push Morse back and get a closer look at him. 

“I mean, you’re nearly two hours late, you look a mess and,” he brushed a thumb across Morse’s chin, making him hiss a little. “Yeah, you look like you were dragged through a hedge backwards. Multiple hedges. What’d Thursday have you doing?”

Morse let out a laugh at that, and shrugged off Jakes’ hands.

“Suspect ran, I chased. Suspect had big fists,” he ruffled his own hair, and Jakes caught sight of a yellowing bruise along his hairline. “And I have a soft head. It got a bit messy.” 

Jakes sighed, despairing. “You…” he reached to loop his fingers through Morse’s. “You ever gonna go do a routine case?” That got a decent laugh out of Morse. Jakes lead him by the hand through to the living room, watching out of the corner of his eye for the way Morse favoured his right foot. As he gently shoved Morse towards the sofa, he rolled up his sleeves. 

“What’s up with the foot?” He asked, pulling a blanket from the armchair to throw over Morse. He fought it for a second, went to stand up so Jakes glared at him. 

“I… tripped. It’s fine though, nothing broken.” Jakes rolled his eyes and dropped to his knees, quickly removing Morse’s shoes and rolling up one of his trouser legs. With just a glance, he could tell there was something not quite right. Morse’s ankle was red and swollen, the discolouration stretching below his sock. 

Letting his fingers carefully trace down Morse’s leg he watched for the moment Morse gasped. 

“You’ve sprained it Morse.” He said softly. He looked up at Morse, his hands folded in the blanket and a grimace on his face. 

“It’s not that bad.” Jakes stood up, hands on his hips now. 

“Well yeah, it’s not broken but that can’t be good to walk on.” He waved a finger commandingly. “Stay here.” 

Morse went to argue, so he threw a cushion at him. “Sit there and get comfy, alright?” 

He slipped out to the kitchen, where he dug out a bag of frozen peas and the roll of bandages out of the first aid kit. With the other hand he grabbed a bag of peanuts, which he again tossed towards Morse as he hauled over a footstool.

“Eat,” he ordered, tapping the stool. Morse rolled his eyes, but lifted his foot as he pulled the bag open. After a few moments of fiddling, and only one peanut lobbed at his head, Jakes had wrapped his ankle up tight, and made up an ice-cushion with the peas. 

“Keep it there for a while,” he said as he stood, leaning down to press a kiss to Morse’s forehead. Morse gave him a put upon look, shaking his head so Jakes snuck another kiss. Then he dropped down beside Morse, close enough their thighs touched and he could sneak his hand into Morse’s lap and grab his hand again.

“You’re gonna be the death of me Morse,” he said, letting his head fall onto Morse’s shoulder. He felt Morse chuckle more than heard it. “It’s not funny! I’ve been sitting here worr-wondering when you’d get back and then you turn up like this.” 

He snatched a few peanuts out of Morse’s hand and Morse made a disgruntled noise. “You know you’ve got dirt on your chin too?” 

“I have?” Morse pulled up his cuff and scrubbed at the mark. 

“Not with your shirt!”

“It’s already ruined,” Morse muttered, drawing Jakes’ eyes up again. He caught a glimpse of the cuff, and recognised the initials on the buttons. A mild flicker of annoyance flashed through him.

“Oi, that’s my shirt!”

“Is it, I hadn’t noticed?” That was a barefaced lie, and he knew it. Morse was smirking at him, somehow still looking charming with smudged dirt and bruises on his face. Jakes huffed.

“Arse. You owe me a new one,” he said, then dropped back down to nuzzle Morse’s neck. He felt Morse’s head tilt too, so it rested against his. Jakes smiled. He could worry about Morse all he wanted, but he could never find it to be truly upset when he always came home to him in the end. They had for the most part moved past Morse pretending he didn’t need help, he didn’t argue when Jakes plied him with hot chocolate and painkillers, or insisted on a days bedrest. 

With Morse safe and only a little banged up beside him, Jakes found himself able to lose himself in his show, only tearing up a little as they watched the man on screen fade away into someone new.

* * *

They watched for an hour or so, until the peas started dripping water on the floor and Morse struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Bed?” Jakes asked with a yawn, toes curling as he stretched out on the sofa. Morse nodded, one hand rubbing at his eyes. Jakes took the now half-defrosted veg and dumped it in the sink, and by the time he returned, Morse was trying to stand without wobbling. Jakes shook his head.

“You gonna make it up the stairs?” He asked, offering a hand. Morse looked at it for a second, and then sighed.

“Probably not.” Jakes gets that look in his eyes then, the same mischievous look that usually preceded a quick snog in the broom cupboard or something. Reaching forwards with hands outstretched, he wrapped one arm around Morse’s waist. The other dropped down and in one smooth movement, hoisted Morse up by the knees, into a bridal sort of carry. 

The cry it drew out of Morse was one of surprise more than anything else. Careful so as not to knock Morse’s still bandaged ankle, he began the slow journey upstairs. It would have gone a lot faster had he stopped trying to sneak kisses as he went, but in fairness Morse didn’t try to stop him either. By the time they made it to the bed, Morse’s lips were sore and Jakes’ hair thoroughly ruined. 

Jakes dropped him onto the bed none too gently, and found himself pulled on top, Morse’s hands hungrily searching for him. Jakes couldn’t help laughing at the desperate noises Morse was making as his lips tracked a messy path up Jakes’ neck. He ducked his head so he could catch Morse’s lips, and the pleased little hum Morse let out sent fire straight through him. So lost in exploring Morse’s mouth as he was, Jakes hardly noticed where their legs were, and it wasn’t till his foot knocked Morse’s that he remembered why he’d even carried him up here. 

Morse gasped as his ankle throbbed, and Jakes face fell. 

“Oh shit, sorry Morse-“ lips crashed against his again.

“Don’t care, s’fine.” Morse murmured. “Want you.” Jakes held himself over Morse for a second, trying to distract himself from the way Morse’s fingers were already working his belt. They really probably shouldn’t do this, not with Morse like this. Then again, Morse seemed to be enjoying himself, and if he would insist on grinding against Jakes like that. He let Morse keep it up for a while and then nudged him back down, meaning to rip the shirt off of him, but the movement again knockedMorse’s leg and he let out a strangled noise, decidedly less dirty than before.

“Morse,” he said with a warning tone. Morse sighed.. 

“I’ll take something in a minute-“ Jakes interrupted him with a loud “Shit!” as he pulled open Morse’s shirt. There was only one bruise, but it was big, and nasty and already a dark purple. Kt was long and thing, running diagonally across Morse’s chest.

“I thought you said he punched you,” Jakes ground out, anger bubbling over any remotely sexual feelings. 

“He punched me… with a crowbar?” Morse offered, long fingers still tracing up Jakes’ trouser leg. 

“We’re not doing this Morse.” 

“Peter!” 

Jakes gave him a stern look. “Fine.” With no warning, he let himself drop, putting nearly his full weight on top of Morse. Morse wheezed.

“This good?” Morse face wrinkled and he swatted at Jakes’ back.

“Okay, okay fine, you made your point,” Jakes rolled off and fell onto the sheets beside him, a smirk on his face.

“Tomorrow though,” he insisted, leaning over to nip at Jakes’ neck one last time. Jakes rolled his eyes, propping himself up on one elbow. Morse still looked a sight, laid across the bed in his trousers, an open shirt and very little else. There was a quiet moment, and Jakes leant forward to slip the shirt from his shoulders. 

“That looks really bad Morse,” he murmured, fingers tracing along the bruising. Morse sighed.

“I suppose. I just ache all over to be honest. Maybe I’ll take that ibuprofen.” 

Jakes sat up, feeling around the bedside drawer and coming up empty.

“Wait here,” he said, leaping up and hopping towards the bathroom. He started up the bath running, whilst he dug out some painkillers. He laid them out, alongside a mug of water on the edge of the bath. He called out.

“Think you can make it to the bathroom?”

Morse’s voice was a lot closer, and his face appeared at the door.

“Yes.”

Jakes nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Jesus, Morse, you ever do what you’re told?” 

“Nope.” Jakes shoved him towards the bathtub.

“Shut up and wash,” Jakes said, slouching out again. He left Morse to wash the dirt off his face, heading to the kitchen to put together some sort of dinner. He had been planning on an Italian night, but supposed bacon sandwiches would suffice. Cramming his with tomato, and Morse’s with enough ketchup to drown in, he balanced both plates precariously and wobbled upstairs. Morse had made it back to bed, hair wet and foot propped up on a pillow. He’d managed to pull on a pair of cotton pyjamas bottoms, but hadn't quite made it into a shirt. The bruise stood out a little less against his flushed skin, though it still looked nasty.

“Managed to keep that dry, impressive.” Jakes said nodding at the bandaged appendage. Morse snatched the sandwich off him. 

“I’m very flexible when I need to be,” he said as he bit into it. Jakes raised an eyebrow as he sat opposite him. “Don’t I know.” Morse elbowed him, and Jakes laughed, the pair of them falling into a comfortable silence as they ate. 

Finished, Morse yawned, balancing his plate atop the pile of books he had accumulated on his side table. Jakes shoved the last bite of his in his mouth and dropped his plate on top. Both done, Morse brushed his crumbs onto the floor, and Jakes shuffled closer. 

“Here, I grabbed this,” he said pulling out a bottle of aloe gel. “Lie back.” Morse knew better than to protest, plumping a pillow and settling himself against the headboard. With a careful hand, Jakes started spreading the gel across the line of bruising on Morse’s chest. He flinched a little at the cool touch, but as Jakes worked his magic, Morse’s eyelids drooped. By the time Jakes had mapped out the whole stretch of broken skin, Morse was breathing softly, eyes barely open. 

“You okay Morse?” He asked quietly. Morse nodded slowly. 

“Tired,” he mumbled. Jakes flopped forwards, curling up against Morse’s side. His lips found Morse’s shoulder, and his hand Morse’s hip.

“Sleep then,” he whispered against his back, reaching over to flick off the lamp. Morse let out a content sigh. It was hard to fight off sleep when Jakes was keeping up a gentle pattern of kisses across his shoulder, down his arm, up his neck. Jakes kept them up until Morse’s head lolled to the side, and his gentle snores filled the room. Jakes grinned, pulling the blankets up around them, and wrapped his arms around Morse once more. The stress of the day, all the worry, it melted away when he knew he could sleep with Morse safe in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> morse is horny even when hurting, what a ledge. if jakes hadn;t got food, i swear this was nearly a smut fic.


End file.
